Aeternus, Eternus
by Devora McCovington1
Summary: When Seamus leaves Lavender, she loses herself to a world of pain. A tale of discovery and continuation away from the eyes we usually see it through.


Aeternus, Eternus 

A/N: All right. I wrote this on the plane back from glorified 

France, and read it 

again recently and decided it had my signature bizarreness, and 

had a subject I 

felt should be aborded more often. 

So basically, enjoy. 

Should you feel about ten minutes in that this is boring and 

dull, you may as well click the back button on tour browser and read something 

else. 

You are meant to be doing this for fun. 

And also, you might have difficulty reading this, as for some 

odd reason, my computer is having problems with sentences and skips lines and I cant undo it.

Sorry or any inconvenience caused

*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

He'd lied, when he told her he'd love her forever. 

He was one of those Greek monsters that were so beautiful to 

look at, but 

destroyed you if you got too close. 

Never. Don't be stupid. 

Sarcasm would drip from his voice, flooding her mind. 

She learnt then what the words self-dependence meant, even 

though it had 

been staring at her in the face for years. 

To live without needing a hand to feed you, to get up in the 

morning knowing 

there was nothing waiting for you when you stepped out into the 

open. 

She abandoned herself, magazines gathering dust on the shelves, 

clothes and 

shoes she'd spent a fortune on were stained with food and worn 

to tatters. 

She learnt what mattered. 

The only person she found she wanted to talk to ended up being 

Hermione. 

She was the only one who didn't treat her like a china doll. . 

People she didn't 

even know tip-toed around her, and spoke to her in hushed 

voices. 

They thought she was dying. 

Hermione, though, took on a completely different approach. 

Like those who didn't want to hurt her, she was careful to avoid 

any 

conversation that might lead to mention of Seamus, but if she 

walked that path, 

She didn't jump over the hedge and run, without looking for 

directions. 

She looked around her, and turned towards the woods, stroking 

the grass with 

her fingertips. It was strange how she would rather get lost 

than find her way 

home. 

She would rather be spinning in nature than lying in bed. 

She spoke to Lavender as if she were still human, still 

breathing, as if she could 

still feel things like she used to. 

The winter came, freezing her fingers and taking her by the 

throat, the empty 

howl of life echoing thorugh her, crushing her. 

She thought she was dying, then. 

Hermione stood by her bedside in the hospital wing, leaving only 

when 

Madame Pomfrey insisted she do so, eating and sleeping only when 

she had to. 

But she couldn't save herself from the dreams. 

Dreams of Seamus. 

Dreams of Seamus hating her. 

In some dreams he was just there, staring at her as if she were 

the Morigan. 

In some dreams he raped her. 

She would wake up, writhing in pain, burning with fever, 

crushing Hermione's 

fingers in her own, telling herself that it wasn't reality. 

According to what she heard, from whispers and taunts, it was 

while she was 

dying that Seamus fell in love with Parvati. 

Lavender knew, even though she didn't, what Parvati was doing. 

Cleansing him of any love he might have left for another, 

erasing past from 

future, taking control like an invader in a desolate land. 

The invader was the Dowager Queen's knight. 

She knew that love was painful. 

She heard Cho Chang's screams in the night. 

She heard them for years. 

A rose, red like blood, thorns a plenty that gouged deep down 

into your 

fingers. 

You can never let go. 

It follows you like the shadows from Hell, reminding you of the 

pact you made. 

The contract you signed in blood. 

You didn't read the thin print 

You didn't want to know about the demons in the haven you were 

promised. 

Snowstorms engulf you, prising open wounds that don't heal. 

By the time February was upon them, Lavender's eyes had gone 

died, staring at 

the rest of the world as if it were a blank canvas. 

Pansy Parkinson told that Lavender was on a muggle drug she'd 

heard about. 

Hermione was the only one who didn't believe her. 

She took control. 

If Lavender didn't want to eat, Hermione lured her to the dining 

table with a 

plate of chicken. If Lavender didn't want to go to class, 

Hermione bribed her 

with a massage. 

Hermione became somewhat of a mother. 

So that's how Lavender learnt. 

It didn't matter about Seamus anymore. 

What started to matter was her life, and the one that was 

growing inside of her. 

Lavender was five months pregnant with the baby of one who hated 

her. 

She didn't tell Hermione. 

And Hermione needn't have found out through her own logic. 

She'd always known. Ever since the first day back in October 

when Lavender 

had sat down in front of her and stared at the flames of the 

lire, as they licked 

the wall around them. 

Hermione was aunty Hermione before Lavender was even a mother. 

But even though hope was setting in, Lavender was still living 

in the turmoil of 

hell that had become her life. Because no matter where she 

looked, there was 

always something to remind her of the demons she was facing, the 

inarticulate 

tasks she had to face, before reaching for the grail. 

Now it wasn't the pain of loss that was killing her, it was the 

pain of the years 

she would face with a hand in her own, watching life through the 

eyes of an 

innocent. 

She started to fear the future. She used to fear the past. 

Because with the pain 

came a reminder of trust betrayed, a scar that she would 

protect, even though 

she could see the traces of one she hated in every ounce of 

being. 

One that she loved, even though it had been abandoned, her lease 

on life was 

an endless thread of conditions. 

Lavender knew this, but it gave her the courage to hope, instead 

of letting go. 

To show her child the angels of life, instead of letting the 

demons take her. 

The child of Appolyon was born on the eighth of June. 

Hermione stood by her side, clasping her fingers. 

Seamus sat on a chair, drinking from a goblet of brandy. 

What was amazing was that the pain she'd always known would come 

with this 

child, almost didn't exist. It became absolutely nothing 

compared to the pain 

she'd suffered alone, in the night, each second stealing 

something from her, the 

long fingers of hate reaching through her, winding out her soul. 

Seamus didn't look at the child when it was born. He didn't want 

to believe 

that he was father, even though Harry, Ron and Hermione had 

argued with 

him to a point that Ron threw an inkwell at him. 

Lavender though, couldn't take her eyes off it. 

It was a girl, the shouts had told her. 

She named her the moment she saw her. 

Aimee Hermione Brown. 

The Aimee was for loved. A little thing, so un-aware of the 

world who had 

turned it's back on her. Loved by her mother, and by her fairy 

god-mother.. 

The child of an angel named innocence. 

The child of hope, and life through glory. 

The child who would watch the moon, queen of all nature, and 

would hear her 

lullaby, singing to her the tale of heroes, the tale of lands 

reigned by good, and 

a time when evil had not existed. 

Evil, the child of hatred. 

Good, the child of love. 

Aimee, the child of both. 

But it was of no matter to fate. 

Three days after she was born, Aimee Hermione Brown died. 

Madame Pomfrey couldn't explain it, words torn from her mouth 

before being 

let spoken. Professor Dumbledore said it was to have lived in 

the arms of pain, 

and then to be given over to love. 

Hermione wept and said it was nobody's fault. 

Lavender said nothing. 

Her child lay dead in her arms, never to be given a chance by 

life. 

Never to paint the dance of her footsteps. 

Never to feel the cold rage of winter, and the warm stroke of 

the spring. 

Never to be. 

It was night when she left the hospital wing, little Aimee in 

her arms. 

The moon watched her, walking barefoot in the grass, her robes 

flowing 

behind her, looking like an angel cradling baby Jesus. 

She watched Nature as she went, the ore of life, the infinity 

dreamed of by 

those too blind to see. 

She stood by herself, letting the wind take control of her, 

watching the soul of 

night, thinking about her past, abandoning each memory to the 

river of life. 

She stood on her toes, the earth of the cliff shifting 

underneath her. 

She looked at her daughter, her little form limp and cold, and 

took a breath. 

"Aeternus, Eternus Aimee. Forever." 

She stepped off the cliff and tumbled through the air, the hands 

of death 

reaching for her. 

She walked the path destiny had set her. 

Little Aimee in her arms.

__

~* Fini *~


End file.
